Go with my gut. I laughed to myself, letting the sidewalk traffic stream around me as I stood outside The Blackbird. The better advice might have actually been for me to follow my heart. That damn thing rarely chimed in anymore. Since Dani it’d taken an indefinite sabbatical. But my gut, well, that had led me right back here—to the best nachos in the city and a small welcome home get-together for Rachel.

As predicted, she turned down the California job. The only one of us who was even remotely surprised by that decision was Ben. And that reaction was equally expected.

I shouldered my way through the door, doffing my hat as I went and shoving it brim-first into my back pocket. I pretended to glance around the room and look for my friends, but really I was scoping out the situation at the bar. It took me about two-point-five seconds to catch sight of Dani’s red hair and another three to force my attention elsewhere.

There was only one open seat at our table, but I circled away from it to hand out hellos—fist bumps for Ian and Felix, a kiss on the cheek for Bianca, a ponytail-flick for Jules, head nod for Ben, and a huge squeeze for Rachel.

I pushed her back from me. “Tell me you went surfing.”

She laughed and tucked a strand of coffee-colored hair behind her ear. “I can’t ride a bicycle, but you think I can stand up on a surf board?”

I rolled my eyes and slipped into the chair across from her. “At least tell me you did something fun.”

“Umm . . .” Her fingers skimmed her throat. “I spent some time on the beach.”

My “Without your laptop?” collided with Jules’s “Meet anyone . . . interesting?”

We grinned at each other. Consider us professional button-pushers.

Rachel’s cheeks reddened. “That’s the wonderful thing about my work, I can do it anywhere.” She shrugged and purposefully looked towards Jules, which was the opposite end of the table from where Ben was not-so-casually lounging. “My boss was pretty interesting. Her sister is a pretty big-name sculptor. She took me out to one of her exhibitions.”

“Not quite what I meant.” Jules took a sip of her beer and leaned her elbows onto the table so she could lean forward. She might’ve been the newest to join our little group, but she’d actively taken up the role of matchmaker in regards to Rachel. “No flaxen-haired, hot-bodied lifeguards? Brooding artists with hipster glasses and chin dimples? Nothing?”

Bianca finally tore her gaze away from her cell phone and tuned into the conversation.

Ben looked like he was trying not to bite through his tongue.

Felix looked at me and mouthed, Flaxen-haired? then flinched as Jules casually elbowed him in the side.

Ian was clearly torn—eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched together. Poor guy was always stuck right in the middle of his best friend and brother.

“I didn’t . . . there just wasn’t . . . I was very busy.” Rachel drained her wine, sucking down nearly half a glass.

Bianca pursed her lips. “Juliet, don’t you have some connections over on the West Coast?”

Jules’s eyes freaking gleamed. “That is a brilliant idea. Nice call, B.” She sized Rachel up through narrowed eyes. “My ex, Erik, I definitely need to introduce you to him.”

Cheeks flaming, Rachel folded her arms over her stomach. But before she could even mutter whatever was about to come out of her mouth, Ben sat forward and said, “Are you sure Rach is his type?” One eyebrow arched up.

The temperature at The Blackbird might have been a balmy seventy degrees, but at our table the atmosphere hit sub-zero. Icicles formed a pathway between Rachel’s seat and Ben’s. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she bit out.

Oh. Shit.

Ben squirmed underneath the weight of everyone’s stares. “That’s not—” His hand coasted over his hair. “I only meant that, maybe, I don’t know, he really likes blondes.”

“Or boobs,” Ian chimed in, forcing the fakest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. Ian referring to Rachel in even the smallest sexual sense, a girl who was practically his sister, was a clear sign the apocalypse was nearly upon us. “You know because Jules has small ones and you—” He waved a hand in the general direction of her chest and cringed. “You have some great, uh, big boobs.”

Felix scowled at him, his message clear: Seriously, man? What the fuck.

“Guys, seriously?” I leaned back in my chair. “We are in the company of three beautiful and highly intelligent women. If this Erik guy has any sense of taste, which he has to have since he dated Jules, he’ll love our Rachel. Who wouldn’t?” I lifted my glass towards her.

For a few beats there was only the pulse of a popular pop number between us. But the sound of it was inadequate enough to drown out the stir of emotions swirling at the table. Rachel’s eyes misted before she cast them down, fingers plucking at her blouse. “Excuse me a minute, I just need to get a refill.” Her chair scraped back, hair floating down to cover her face.

I leveled Ben with a stare. “Dude, go fix that.”

His lips clamped together, but he only hesitated a second before going after her.

I blew out a breath. “So, who’s hungry?” I gestured to the empty table, nothing but a few half-full glasses between us. “Seriously, who didn’t order nachos? I’m famished.”

“When aren’t you?” Felix grumbled.

Jules stirred whatever pink concoction she was drinking, making the half-melted ice cubs clink together. “Speaking of, how is your gut feeling?”

I tried not to, but couldn’t help sending a quick glance toward the bar. Blue eyes locked onto mine, caught staring. For a heartbeat, something stretched between us, anchoring itself to my chest so that it felt like my ribcage was being crushed. With effort, I wrestled my attention back where it was supposed to be. “My gut is fine. Empty. Needing nachos.”

Ian cocked his head at me. “You sick?”

Bianca’s eyes widened. “Is it the flu? Are you contagious?” She discretely scooted back and lifted her hand to cover her face. “Sorry, it’s just that I have a huge case I’m working on and I cannot afford to be sick.”

“I’m not sick.” I tapped my knuckles against the table. “It was just a case of . . . food poisoning—brief, violent, and—”

“TMI, man.” Felix wrinkled his nose. “Nobody needs to hear about that.”

“The point is, I’m over it.” I gritted my teeth, fighting every sensation that was coursing through my body, urging me to look back at Dani. “Dammit, where the hell is this waitress? Can I not get some motherfucking nachos in this place?”

“Dude, chill.” Felix gave me a once-over like he thought I was seriously off my rocker. “I’ll go find someone and order you some food—nachos, mozzarella sticks, the works. You shouldn’t be allowed out in public when you’re hangry.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already speeding away from the table, weaving his wheelchair through the crowd. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I blew out a breath. “I think my blood sugar’s low or something.”

“Or something,” Bianca reiterated.